A Helping Hand
by Aurora Abbot
Summary: Isaac receives help from the most unexpected pack member and finds, along the way, that he and Stiles have more in common than he realized.


_**Hey Everyone! Me again :)**_

_**This story has been on my hard drive for quiet some time and when I read it a few days ago, I realized that I really missed Isaac. What about you guys?**_

_**Enjoy and Review**_!

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Isaac Lahey sighed as he stared at his food tray, his appetite nearly nonexistent. It'd been this way for the past week.

This time of the year, every year, for the past five had always been like this for him. No eating, no sleeping, no talking, and his personal favorite, getting the shit beaten out of him. For three years, his father had taken care of that last part, then, after his father's death and turning into a werewolf, he'd gotten in so many fights he'd stopped counting. But this year? This year, he and the pack weren't facing the possibility of war; there weren't any threats to eliminate. Nothing. And he was itching for a fight.

The bell rang and he went to class, eager for the day to be over. He avoided Scott's worried looks and Allison's softly asked questions. Hell, even Lydia seemed to be worried about him. They were all worried.

Except for Stiles.

Stiles was the only one who was treating him normally. He still made fun of him sometimes, still insulted him like it was his job. Maybe it was because he didn't care? Or that he just didn't notice the change in Isaac? Yeah, that was probably it.

So he'd gone home (the McCall's), changed, stayed in bed, then, when it was eleven am, he snuck out and went for a walk.

He was a couple of miles away when he heard it. A scream.

He ran in that direction, ignoring the voice in his head that told him it was a stupid idea.

After a minute of running, he reached his destination and wasted no time. He immediately grabbed the man and bodily lifted him off the small woman, who merely whimpered in fear.

He knew he should take the woman and leave before the man got up. But the bigger part of him wanted the fight. So when the guy did get up, and three others joined him, Isaac merely smiled and told the woman to run.

Three hours later, he regretted that choice. Immensely.

He'd picked a fight with three hulking men, got his ass handed to him, and ended up sitting in a holding cell that was really, really small.

He'd tried to explain it to the cops, he really had. But with no victim, since the woman was nowhere to be found, he didn't have anything to back him up.

Which was the reason he was here.

"You have one phone call. Who's it gonna be, kid?" The deputy asked him grumpily.

Isaac's eyes widened. Who the hell was he going to call to bail him out? Scott? Melissa? Allison? No way. He didn't need to see the disappointment in their eyes, wouldn't be able to handle it. He didn't need to hear the usual "You could've hurt those guys, you're a werewolf, Isaac."

So he took the phone and called the only one left.

It took Stiles and his dad ten minutes to get to the station. And while the Sheriff was in the process of getting him out, Stiles was sat on the bench near the holding cells

"Yo, Isaac!"

Isaac groaned loudly. He really didn't want to talk to Stiles right now. Hell, he'd hoped that, if he did come through for him, that he would be able to dodge questions and judgmental stares. . Apparently, luck was not on his side. He snorted. Yeah, like it ever was.

He looked at Stiles sideways, and saw him staring at him expectantly, giving him this weird stare that was understanding, worried and eager. The guy _himself_ was weird, so why wouldn't everything he does be too?

For some reason, any and all the conversations they had consisted of insults and sarcastic jabs that were, for the lack of a better word, creative.

The only thing they had in common was Scott, and even that wasn't the same. For Stiles, Scott is his best friend, his brother, one of the few people he would do everything in his power to protect. For Isaac, Scott is pack. He's his Alpha. The only person, besides Melissa and maybe Allison, who gave a damn about what happened to him.

The cells opened and he immediately got out, mumbling a quiet thanks to the Sheriff.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched involuntarily and stopped, then turned to Stiles, who had immediately removed the hand off his shoulder. He scowled at the human, who merely raised an eyebrow. "What do you want, Stiles?"

Stiles lifted his hands in the air. "Wanted to check up on you? I mean, what the hell were you thinking, picking a fight with these guys?"

Isaac took a threatening step towards the other boy, who casually took a step back. "I knew what I was doing, got it? I saved that woman. Nobody got hurt," he told him bitterly.

Stiles threw his hands up in the air, frustrated. "Except for you," he said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Look, I don't give a damn about these guys you fought with. Nine times out of ten, they end up beating the shit out of each other or hurting someone else. You did a good thing, by saving that woman, but I'm just wondering, why not just run? Did you suddenly get the urge to get beaten to a pulp?"

"I was walking when I heard the scream, okay? I followed the sound, pulled the man off of the woman and then fought them," he said, voice showing no emotion whatsoever.

"Don't insult my intelligence, or yours, Isaac. You and I both know that a) you could've gotten out of there without laying a finger on them and b) you didn't really fight back. You don't want to tell me why that is, that's fine. Say the word and I'll back off."

Isaac stared at him for a good five minutes. "Back off," he growled and stalked out of the station.

Halfway to the McCall's, Isaac heard the honking of the jeep and stopped in his tracks, glaring at Stiles.

"What the hell are you doing? It's five am and people are sleeping," he hissed, once the car stopped.

"Get in the car."

Isaac raised an eyebrow at that, but got in.

They didn't say anything for a good ten minutes, until Isaac noticed they weren't going in the direction of the McCall's. "Where the hell are you going?"

"You'll see," Stiles promised.

Isaac saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel, heard his heart beat pick up, and frowned.

"We're here," Stiles told him softly, nervously.

Isaac's eyes widened. They were at the cemetery. How the hell did Stiles _know_?

"Come on." Stiles got out of the jeep and waited until Isaac did the same, before he walked in the iron gates.

Isaac was still too shocked to get angry. His feet carried him to her tombstone without his consent.

He came to a halt in front of the grey rock and stared at it.

_Addison Lahey_

_1974-2008_

_Loving daughter, wife, mother and friend._

He hadn't visited her grave in over five years. Even though she was buried in the same cemetery he'd worked in, he'd always avoided the area that surrounded her grave. For so long, coming remotely close to her grave caused panic attacks and nightmares of that night. This time though, he just felt sadness and regret. No fear. It probably had something to do with someone being there with him.

Stiles spoke, breaking Isaac from his trance.

_"_I'm gonna say something, but before I do, I'd like to remind you that my dad is the Sheriff and would kill you if you kill me," Stiles told him, his voice soft and low, despite the levity of his words.

Isaac continued to stare.

"What happened to your mother was tragic and unfair, but it was not your fault," he told him quietly and with conviction. Isaac wanted to punch him.

"You know nothing," Isaac hissed at him, finally able to tear his eyes away from the tombstone.

Stiles smirked. "I know more than I should. Like how you were there when it happened. And that you had to watch her die."

Isaac growled at him. "You know what everyone else does. That it was an accident. But do you know that it was my fault? I distracted her!" He screamed.

"A guy ran a red light, Isaac. That's why the accident happened. It wasn't your fault, it was his," Stiles told him firmly.

Isaac shook his head. "I had to watch her die. You don't understand what that's like. No one could."

"I do understand, Isaac," Stiles said, his voice hard and filled with so much sadness that Isaac almost took a step back from him. "I watched my mother die too. You know what the difference is, between you and me? It took three hours for your mother to die and it took mine a year."

Isaac's eyes widened. How did he not know that? Stiles continued, unaware of the thoughts playing in Isaac's head.

"I know what you're going through, okay? And I get that you want something to take your mind off of it, but no matter what you do, that pain will never go away. It's a constant, and you need to live with it, you need to control it before it controls you and you end up dead."

Isaac opened and closed his mouth a few times, resembling a fish out of the water, not knowing what to say. And honestly, what do you say to something like that?

"I'll be waiting in the jeep. I think you have a lot of catching up to do," Stiles told him as he walked backwards.

"She's dead, Stiles. Not like she can hear me," he told him with an eye roll.

"How do you know that? Look, if there's a slight chance that she can actually hear you, wouldn't you take it?" And without waiting for an answer, Stiles left.

Isaac turned back to the tombstone, a soft smile on his lips. After a few hesitant tries, he finally cleared his throat and began to speak. "Hey, mom. I'm sorry I haven't visited in the past five years. I just wasn't ready, I guess... Frankly, I thought I might never be... We _do_ have a lot of catching up to do," he started, repeating Stiles' words. "Oh, and that quirky kid that was with me? His name's Stiles, he's my friend..."

Isaac was sure he'd spent an hour talking. He told her everything. He talked about werewolves, Scott, Allison, Melissa, Derek, Erica, Boyd, and everything that came to mind.

He stood up slowly, brushed himself off, and then touched the tombstone gently. "I'll come back soon, okay? I promise."

Isaac walked away, feeling lighter than he had in weeks, hell, _years_.

Stiles was, to Isaac's surprise, waiting for him, the jeep parked a few feet from where he was. Isaac jogged the remaining distance. When he got to the passenger side door, Stiles still hadn't noticed him. Honestly, how had the guy survived for the past couple of years? He opened the door and jumped in, preparing himself for a damn long ride. Stiles was a chatter box and he was probably going to talk his ears off, asking questions. Instead, the boy just gave him an understanding smile, not even commenting on how long it took Isaac to leave, and started the car.

The ride was silent, but it was surprisingly comfortable.

Stiles hadn't even had time to park when his phone rang. He frowned and answered.

"Stiles, where the hell have you two been?!" Melissa McCall's shout reached their ears the second Stiles answered.

They both winced.

"Well..." Stiles trailed off, then looked at him pleadingly. Isaac just shrugged, hiding his discomfort. Stiles rolled his eyes, causing him to grin.

"You know what? Both of you, get out of the car and get in the house. Right now!" And she hung up.

Stiles stuffed his phone in his pocket and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm afraid of going in there," he mumbled and Isaac laughed. Stiles glared at him. "Alright, how about you get out of here and get in there, huh, hot shot?"

That immediately shut him up.

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Stiles slammed the door of his jeep and rested his head on the steering wheel. He needed a minute. Just one minute to sort out his jumbled emotions.

Going to the cemetery, talking about his mother with Isaac and seeing the same pain he went through, is still going through, hit a nerve. Even though she's been gone for over eight years, her death was like an open wound that just wouldn't heal.

He sighed tiredly, emotionally darned. Isaac hadn't said much to him on the way to the McCall's, but from the way his eyes were lighter and his smile was a little more real, Stiles had to assume that the visit and the talk had done him good.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He frowned, checking the message. His frown turned into a small smile as he read over the two-word text that Isaac sent

"_Thank you."_

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_** Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this. **_

_**One request :Review? If you don't want to, that's fine. I know what it's like to not find the words you want to say, but could you at lease favorite? so I know that people out there enjoy what I write? Ten seconds of your time would make my day! **_

_**I would like to thank a special friend, Jessica (lucawindmover) for her help and wonderful insight on this. You're the reason I had the nerve to post this story and the previous one, Jess! I would also like to thank everyone who reviewed my previous story, Heaven is for angels; lucawindmover (for her long and FANTASTIC review ), Into-Your-Gravity (for her lovely review and sharing my opinion on how stupidly selfless Stiles is) and Karin (Whose heart I broke with my Story). Really, you three made my day! **_

_**See you next time!**_


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